


When We Break

by lilaccoffee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Arguing, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Established Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, POV Third Person, Pet Names, Present Tense, Prompt Fill, Rehabilitation, Secret Relationship, Self Harm, Short Story, Spooning, Take Me Home Tour, Therapy, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1879527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaccoffee/pseuds/lilaccoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Management makes it their mission to keep Harry and Louis apart, and it becomes too much to handle. </p><p>Or, the one where the world is becoming a too heavy weight on their shoulders and each boy is desperate to keep the other afloat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Shatter

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill from a lovely girl on ask.fm. This will be five chapters.

It's the end of a long day, the sun is starting to go down, and a chill is starting to settle over the house. The furnace is humming with the force it's taking to heat the room to a comfortable temperature. Blankets are draped over Harry on the couch, his head nestled into a pillow when it should be Louis' neck instead. The telly provides him with company, the glow illuminating his face is almost like a friend.  
Harry spends more time with the couch than he does with Louis these days. Louis is always busy with friends, he never has enough time for Harry. In Louis' eyes, however, this isn't the case.   
"It's just a couple drinks with my friends," he'd say. "I'm not doing anything wrong."  
Harry knows it isn't a healthy habit for his boyfriend to keep up. He knows it's going to turn into a problem soon, maybe more serious than anyone can guess. Harry also knows the fans are catching on, with Louis being spotted at bars and clubs more frequently than any of the other band members. He can't be blamed for worrying, not even when Louis comes home drunk, yelling and throwing things around in a tantrum way when Harry tries to tell him he needs help.   
"I'm not messed up, and help is for the messed up," Louis would say.   
It's hard to argue with a drunk Louis, or a sober one for that matter. So Harry has stopped trying. He's exhausted from fighting all the time, and he doesn't want to do it anymore. He just wants to go back to normal. Back to the simple X-Factor days, when he and Louis could be affectionate and carefree. When their management didn't exist, meaning they didn't have to hide. Louis could pinch his cheeks and Harry could kiss his chin, but now, the ropes are so tight it's almost like being strangled. All Harry wants is a chance to breath, to live his own life, not have someone script it for him.   
So, when Louis walks in, his eyes bloodshot and the scent of alcohol wafting off him, Harry shuts his eyes and fills his lungs with air. His shoulders shudder as he coaches himself not to show any emotion. But that's hard when he cares so much. He's filled with emotion for Louis, so much that he doesn't know what to do with it some days. He wants to cuddle Louis one moment and scream at him the next. But Harry's too whipped to leave. Too in love that it pains him, makes him feel light headed and dizzy.   
He eventually lifts his head, skimming his eyes over Louis to gauge his intoxication levels. Louis doesn't appear to be too drunk, but Harry won't truly know until he opens his mouth to ask where Louis has been. Only when Louis starts yelling will Harry know. He prays for there to be calm waters, he's too tired for a fight tonight.   
"Hi," Harry whispers.   
Louis doesn't speak. He tries to hang his coat on the rack, but he's much too clumsy, which tells Harry just how drunk Louis must be. Louis hasn't been this drunk in a long time, not since they were told Eleanor was going to be Louis' publicized girlfriend. That wasn't a good night for Harry or Louis. They were in England at the time, and it was the first time Harry had ever drank his sorrows away. However, that was far from the truth, because here they are, almost two years later, and Eleanor is still around. Harry wishes she could just drown in a bottle of alcohol, just like Louis' dignity.   
Louis kicks his shoes off, tossing them on the mat. He strides over to Harry and sits down beside him.  
"Hi," he says dryly.   
Harry licks his lips, running his fingers through his hair. It pushes the chocolate corkscrews even farther back of his forehead, which is crinkled.   
"Why were you out for so long?" he asks.   
Louis sighs. He can feel his frustration rising, though he doesn't know why. This is Harry, his boyfriend, the love of his life, and most importantly, his best friend. That might be the reason he gets mad at Harry so much. Louis knows Harry loves him back, so he knows he can get away with being arrogant, as he knows Harry won't leave him.   
"I was just out, Harry," Louis snaps. "No need to go have a full interrogation on me."  
For a drunk man, Louis is sure good at yelling. He's always been good at yelling. Since the moment he was born, Louis has had a good set of lungs on him.   
Defeated, Harry looks down. "Sorry."  
Louis' nostrils flare. "Look at me, Harry."  
Tears are starting to pool in the corners of Harry's eyes, and like always, he has to force them away before Louis sees them. Intoxicated Louis despises tears, but Sober Louis will mop up those tears and hold Harry until he can't cry anymore, then continues to cradle him as they sleep, whispering soothing words and stroking him with a soothing touch.   
Harry clenches his eyes shut. His eyes swallow up the tears. He then looks up at Louis, waiting for the screaming to begin. Louis surges forward, gripping Harry's chin in his hand. The grip is tight. Harry can't help the tears that race down his cheeks. He's scared. Louis hasn't ever physically hurt him before, so he doesn't think he will now, but it doesn't stop the panic from running through him.   
"Louis?" he squeaks.   
For a moment, Louis doesn't look so dunk. His hand drops from Harry's face and he looks horrified. But as soon as the moment comes, it's gone.   
"Don't be stupid," he hisses. "You know I'd never hurt you."  
But Harry can't help but feel as though Louis would. He can't stop thinking about the hand on his face, the vice-like grip Louis had on him. Harry reaches up to touch his chin and jaw. The skin is heated, almost like he's been slapped. He hasn't, but it sure feels like he has. The fact that Louis would lay his hands on him in such a way is a big slap.  
"I can't say I know that for certain," Harry says, scooting so he's flush to the back of the couch, just in case Louis tries something else in his drunken rage.   
'It isn't fair', Harry thinks. And he's right, it isn't fair. Nothing is fair anymore, not one bit of his life.   
"You should," Louis tells him, punctuating it with a stamp of the foot.   
This will be the last night Harry fights about Louis' love for alcohol. If he can't make any progress tonight, or in the morning when Louis can think straight, he'll give up. Harry'll accept t the fact Louis likes to get drunk, and he'll eventually accept Louis lashing out at him. He knows the tables turn sometimes. Harry knows he gets too jealous. He knows he likes to mope too much, and then make everyone else feel as awful as him. It's possible that his whole relationship with Louis healthy, but Harry has learned that love is so complicated, so hard, and that what doesn't make him feel good at one point has him writhing the next. However, it could be a writhe of anger, sadness, loneliness, or pleasure. Harry doesn't know for certain, he just knows he likes the struggle sometimes.   
As Harry stands from the couch, looming in front of Louis, he decides tonight will be the night he takes charge. Louis stands, too, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks about as frustrated as Harry feels.   
"I can't be certain," Harry informs Louis. "You come home drunk and yell and scream at me. You can't expect me to forgive you as fast as I can blink my eye."  
Louis does expect Harry to forgive him, though. He has too many expectations of Harry, expectations Harry can't achieve. They suffocate him to the point he can't breathe.  
"You expect that of me, don't you?" Harry continues.   
"Well, yes," Louis confirms. "You're my boyfriend, you have to forgive me."  
That's when Harry looses it. How can Louis think that? Harry isn't a doll, he won't be Louis' little toy. If he wanted to be a doll, he'd be one made of porcelain, not the shitty tinker toy Louis treats him as.   
"No, I don't," Harry disagrees. "You're right, I'm your boyfriend, which means this is supposed to be a balanced relationship. Last time I checked, you being bossy isn't equal."  
"I'm older," Louis utters, but he knows he's wrong. Age doesn't have anything to do with a relationship. There can be a forty years age gap, but it should still be equal. He knows he's not doing that, he knows he isn't treating Harry fairly.   
Harry rubs his temples. "Are you for real?"  
"I didn't mean it like that. Harry, I-you know I don't think that way," Louis scrambles to find the right words, tries to take back what he said, but it's too late. Much too late for that now.   
"Save it," Harry snaps. "I'm done."  
As Harry begins to the coat rack, Louis starts to get frantic. He rushes after Harry, fisting the back of his black tee in his hand.   
"You can't leave!" Louis says, voice high with panic.   
Harry pulls out of Louis' grip, spinning around to face him. It's not hard, as he is a head taller than Louis.   
"Watch me," he snips.   
He starts for the door again. Louis bites his thumbnail. He's still drunk, and his reflexes are too slow to actually stop Harry. When Harry has his mind set to something, it happens, even it's something incredibly stupid. Deciding to use what he has, Louis grabs Harry's shirt again.   
"Please," he says lowly. "You can't go."  
Harry pauses with his foot halfway in his shoe. He decides to humour himself with Louis ramblings.   
"And why is that?" he asks, a smirk starting to form on his pouty red lips.   
"Because-" Louis pauses so his drunk mind can find the right words. "-because it's raining out, which means it's wet, and the wet roads are dangerous."  
Harry sighs. Louis is close to tears now, pleading with Harry in desperation for him to stay. It might be because he knows he's messed up and doesn't want to be alone, or that he truly is sorry. Whatever it is, Harry doesn't want to stick around long enough to hear. But he does, however, because Louis is his boyfriend, and he owes Louis that much.   
"You're worried about me getting hurt?" Harry lifts his eyebrows to his hairline, shifting so his weight is supported on one foot and his hip is jutting out.   
"No-yes," Louis slaps his forehead. "I'm just worried about you in general. It's worse now that the roads are dangerous."  
"I see," Harry stiffly says.   
Louis reaches out with shaky fingers, clasping his hand in the soft fabric of Harry's shirt. Louis is ready to quit, too. He tells himself this is the last effort he's going to make to get Harry to stay.   
"Please. Just stay tonight. If you still want to go in the morning, leave then, when the conditions are better," Louis proposes.   
Harry pauses to think a moment. "You know, I worry about you when you're out in this weather. Alone."  
Louis opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn't know what to say, and that is clear to Harry, who stands with a hard glare etched into his usually soft features. It's finally sinking into Louis' brain.   
"I'm sorry," Louis whispers. He's tired, so tired of fighting with Harry. It takes a toll on him, too, not just Harry.   
Harry. His sweet, beautiful, perfect Harry. The Harry who makes sure he's comfortable and happy. The Harry he loves more than life itself, but can never find the words to tell it to him. Louis doesn't deserve Harry. He can't reciprocate the care anymore. But, if Harry's asked, he'll say something different.   
"Oh, Louis? He's great, really. Looks after me and stuff."  
Harry's always fidgety, though, because he knows Louis isn't always the best boyfriend. Harry knows that he and Louis need to put work into their relationship if they're going to make it last. It's only Drunk Louis that's bad, so Harry can deal. Sometimes.   
"You should be," Harry tells him, an edge to his voice. "Who do you think I am, Louis? Better yet, what to you think I am?"  
"Harry, I love you," Louis says. It's the only thing he can think of saying, and that's not what Harry wants.   
"I asked a question," Harry seethes. "You answer it when I ask it, because I'm sick of me being the one getting pushed around. You don't get to do that anymore. I call the shots now. You want to come home drunk? Deal with me being pissed off, then."  
Louis bows his head, but Harry isn't done. He yanks Louis' head up, maybe a bit too rough, but Harry isn't the only person getting physical tonight. His mind is still replaying the image of Louis' grip on his chin, and his jaw line still has the throb to prove it happened.   
"I know," Louis whispers out. It's so low, Harry almost doesn't catch it.   
"Do you?" Harry rhetorically asks.   
"I think so," Louis confirms. "I mean, I treat you bad and I never treat you with affection anymore."  
He's too dizzy for his words to be completely coherent, but Harry understands what Louis is trying to say. They've been together too long for Harry to not comprehend.   
 "Possibly," Harry says. Like Louis, he's at a loss for words.   
"Possibly? Possibly?" Louis splutters.   
"Yes, possibly," Harry answers.  
"Possibly?" Louis repeats.   
"Yes, Louis," Harry groans. "I don't know what you want me to say. That everything between us going to be okay? Do you want me to hold you and whisper promises I can't keep? I refuse to do that. I can't do it anymore, Lou. There needs to be some changes."  
"I understand," Louis agrees.   
"Do you really?" Harry slams his palms against the wall. "Because I don't think you do. This is hard for me, too, you know."  
Hesitantly, Louis reaches out to place a hand on Harry's forearm. "I know."  
Harry shakes him off. "You expect me to be okay with you being with a girl when I'm your boyfriend?"  
"No," Louis says.   
"Then why do you get to be drunk and I'm expected to take care of you all the time?" Harry finally shouts.   
"I don't expect that, babe," Louis promises him. "I never have."  
"Yes, you do. You want me to get you up in time for interviews and meetings, make sure the soap is always filled up and that I've set your loofah up for you. You don't do that for me," Harry finally lets a couple tears fall. He's so frustrated and mad, he just wants to cry it all out, maybe punch a wall.   
"I didn't know I did that," Louis confesses.   
"I know you don't," Harry sighs. "That's why we need to fix this. Maybe a break will be good for us."  
As the words register with Louis' brain, he starts to cry. He can't help it. All the stress from the meetings this morning, then the outing with Eleanor, and now the fight with Harry has finally brought him down low.   
"A break?" he gasps.   
"Yeah," Harry nods. "A break."  
"No, Harry," Louis pleads.  
"It might be a good idea," Harry runs his fingers through his hair, the habit he's formed for when he's stressed.   
Louis shakes his head, almost desperate. He's at the point of begging for Harry to stay. On his knees, too.   
"Please," he croaks. "You said you'd stay tonight. The roads... Please, Harry."  
With a sigh, Harry drops his coat. Relief spreads over Louis.   
"Thank you," he says.   
Harry hums. "I'm sleeping on the couch tonight. Better yet, you should, but I know the hangover you'll have tomorrow, so I want you to be comfortable."  
Louis feels his blood turn to honey. He has this massive urge to kiss Harry, to show him with the gentlest kiss that Harry means so much to him and that he's willing to change.   
"I'll take the couch," Louis offers. It's better for him to start changing now versus waiting a few days.   
Harry shakes his head. "No," he disagrees. "It's fine, I'll sleep on it."   
He won't admit it, but he's very pleased Louis is attempting to take this step. He's decided that Louis isn't as drunk anymore, and now he doesn't need to yell to get his point across. Which is good, considering Harry is so tired and just wants to go to sleep. He sees the worry in Louis' eyes as he starts for the couch, so he sighs, leaning over to kiss Louis' cheek. It's so soft, almost like it never happened, but it did, and Louis has the tingles on his cheek to prove it. His eyes are wide, and he's starting to realize just how much shit Harry puts up with. Louis now knows how lucky he is to have Harry in his life. It's apparent in the fact that he won't find anyone who loves him more than Harry.   
"Goodnight," Harry says, spreading a blanket over the smooth surface of the couch.   
"Yeah, goodnight," Louis reciprocates, touching his cheek before he descends into his room. Boy, how he wishes to still feel Harry's lips on him again.   
He crawls under the blankets, closing his eyes, but he can't force himself to sleep. His mind is too busy thinking, he knows he won't be able to shut it off anytime soon. Louis is too busy thinking about Harry and replaying his mistakes for sleep. And does Louis have a  lot of mistakes. Like his alcohol love, and his anger problems, and his hatred towards so many things. The way he takes that hatred out on Harry, even though Harry doesn't deserve it. Harry deserves so much better than Louis, but Louis is much too selfish to ever leave. He loves Harry with all he has, and sometimes, all he has to offer is his love.   
A tear slides down Louis' cheek as he thinks about it. Harry stays, and he doesn't even know why. All he knows is that he'd be lost without Harry, who's the solid weight that keeps him grounded. Louis' mind drifts to what life without Harry would be like. Seeing Harry with another boy when no one else is around. Watching them kiss, hold hands and hug. Louis might even have to hear them have sex. Sex. No, that was something special that only he and Harry could share. It may be the thought of his boy with someone else that drives him mad, or the possibility of another man making Harry feel as good as he does. It doesn't seem to matter, as Louis is brought to sobs. He starts to pull at his hair as he pictures someone else treating Harry the way he is right now. The good, the bad, the in between, and the ugly. Louis wishes he could change so badly.  
When looking at it from a different perspective, he can see just how bad he truly is. If he were someone else, he would stop himself from hurting Harry. Harry's just so special, so perfect, and Louis can't believe he's stupid enough to take advantage of him. Louis really starts to cry now, and he can't stop. All his guilt is pouring out of him, just happening to be in the form of tears.   
Louis moves his hand to the spot on the bed where Harry should be. It's so cold without Harry beside him. Louis needs Harry's body beside his, the warm press and the curls tickling his chin. He misses the weight that should be sprawled over his chest and the chin that should be ground into his collarbone. The ringlets that Louis can usually tangle his fingers in, the sweet smell of it that his nose loves to be buried in is gone. Louis can't sigh in exasperation as Harry continuously rubs his face against him, and he misses it so much. Louis aches for Harry to be curled up in his arms, breathing in soft puffs against his neck.   
Harry can hear him from his spot on the couch. He has this urge to go and comfort Louis, to hug him and say that he's forgiven, but that'd be a lie, as Louis isn't forgiven. This isn't the end, Harry knows. It's only the beginning. This keeps plaguing him, all the thoughts of Louis and how he wants something different. Harry doesn't even know the specifics of what he wants, he just knows he wants something different. Instead of Louis yelling at him, Harry wants to be cuddled by him. Harry wants to be held and stroked and rocked, not hit and screamed at.   
It's so conflicting for him. Harry wants to stay, for he loves Louis so much that it's suffocating, but he also feels the suffocation comes from all the abuse he allows himself to take. Harry feels like he's going to snap some days. Snap from holding up all the weight and stress of management hiding their relationship, seeing Louis with Eleanor, dealing with Louis' addiction.   
Harry can't sugarcoat it anymore; Louis has an addiction to alcohol.   
As much as it pains him to say it, he can't keep lying to himself. Louis is addicted. Harry doesn't want to accept it, but he has no other choice. If he wants Louis to change, he needs to stop protecting Louis from the truth. If Harry continues to lie to himself, the more he's going to be a target to Louis' drunken anger. Harry doesn't want to be a target anymore. He's done, so done of being the person Louis takes all his frustration out on. His jaw is still throbbing, that's how hard Louis grabbed him, and Harry doesn't think he could deal with it again. Once the first hit happens, there are usually many more to follow, and Harry can't let that happen to himself. It's about time he takes control over the situation.   
He starts to cry, too. Harry's exhausted, he can't do this anymore. As much as he wants to give up, he refuses to. He needs to prove a point to Louis by sticking around. Proving a point might not be the best way for Harry to phrase it, but that's how he feels. He doesn't know if a relationship is what he wants if this is what he's going to have to deal with, but he won't leave. He also doesn't think he'd ever end this officially, but he can't predict the future. Maybe him and Louis weren't meant to last forever.Though, they are meant to be as of now. Harry knows, despite all of the crap Louis puts him through, what Harry puts Louis through, even, that this is true love.   
Harry feels alive when he's with Louis. He feels on fire when he's touched by Louis. From the tips of his toes to his eyelashes and the ends of his fingers, he feels a deep-seeded love for Louis. Harry doesn't think he could ever find love like this again. He could try, but he knows that Louis is the only one who'll ever make him feel this way. The love Harry feels for Louis is so strong, he is aware of how this is a love that only a few people are lucking to experience. Harry is blessed to have someone who loves him this much, and he's thrilled that he can reciprocate it the same way.   
However, at the same time, it's scary. Love is terrifying. It messes with your emotions, it toys with you, brings you so low sometimes, but then has you soaring to a whole new world. Harry feels the most himself when he's with Louis. He knows he can trust Louis with anything, and that Louis will never tell a soul. Harry trusts Louis with his life, and he knows Louis would die for him, just like he would die for Louis.   
Harry scrubs at his eyes, sitting up so he can cough. The cough emits with a choked cry, and then there are feet padding up to the foot of the couch.   
"Harry," Louis wheezes, voice hoarse from his crying.   
"What?" It's a bit harsher than Harry expected it to be.   
"Oh," Louis murmurs. "I just-I couldn't sleep."  
"Yeah, same," Harry weakly says, fumbling for the chain on the lamp blindly. He pulls it, and the room is lit up from a soft glow radiating from the light bulb.   
Louis appearance is disheveled, matching Harry's. They both look exhausted and cry-tired, having the same urge to touch one another, but not being confident enough to act on it.   
"Can we-" Louis pauses to scratch the back of his head. "-can we talk for a bit?"  
"Sure," Harry agrees. "It's better than tossing and turning."  
"Right," Louis nods. "Can I sit?"  
Harry scoots over, patting the couch in a silent invitation. Louis plunks down beside Harry, shivering from cold. Harry throws one of the four blankets over Louis, wrapping it around his shoulders, then patting the skin.  
"Thank you," Louis says, taken by surprise at Harry's kind actions.   
"Don't mention it," Harry hums. "Anyway, you said you wanted to talk?"  
"I did," Louis confirms, fiddling with his fingers as he stares down at his lap.  
"What about?" Harry presses.   
"I am so sorry, Harry," Louis blurts out, shedding tears again. Harry gasps, but he doesn't shoot forward to console Louis like he normally would.  
"You should be," he says instead. "You hurt my feelings quite a bit."  
"I know," Louis whispers. "But you aren't exactly the victim all the time. You hurt me sometimes, too."  
Harry frowns. "I know I do, but this isn't about you right now."  
"I know," Louis repeats.   
"You keep saying you know," Harry snips. "Do you really know?"  
"Yes, Harry. I do know. I kept thinking about this for-" Louis checks the time on the mantel. It reads three-thirteen AM. "-like, four hours. I do know, and I understand. I'm so, so sorry."  
Harry nods. "Thank you."  
"I swear to God, Harry, if I could change it, I would," Louis pleads. "I need you to believe me."  
"I believe you," Harry says. Louis breathes his sigh of relief too early. "But-"  
"But?" Louis presses.  
"But," Harry confirms. "I don't necessarily forgive you. I mean, I do forgive you, but I can't forget. Your hand... Lou, you could have hurt me, and I cannot forgive that."  
"I'm sorry," Louis repeats.   
"I know that you're sorry," Harry says. "And like I said, I forgive you. I just can't get the feeling of your hand off my jaw. You scared me, Louis."  
Tears bubble out of Louis' eyes. "I'm sorry. I-Can I hug you?" he asks, a hesitant look in his eyes that match Harry's.  
 A deep, slow sigh comes out of Harry's lungs. "I don't know, Louis."  
"Please?" Louis begs. "I'm sorry, and I want to show you I'm sorry. I can be gentle, I promise you."  
Harry sighs again. "Make it quick," he says.  
A sob escapes Louis' lips as he pulls Harry into his arms. Hesitantly, Harry slips his arms around Louis' lower back, pressing his face into Louis' neck. Louis shudders, one of his hands sliding up into Harry's hair, palming at the back of his skull as the blunt nails on his other hand run over Harry's back.  
 "I really, really love you," Louis assures Harry, pressing his nose into Harry's hair.   
"I know," Harry whispers.   
"Can I kiss you?" Louis asks. He knows he's pushing it, but he just needs to assure himself with the gentle press of Harry's lips on his.   
"Louis, you're really pushing me," Harry says, but he pulls back, just enough to meet Louis' lips if Louis goes through with his request.   
Louis makes a whimpering noise, leaning forward to press his lips to Harry's. More tears fall as his lips part over Harry's, over and over and over. Louis moves his hands to cradle Harry's face, softly stroking his fingers over Harry's cheeks.   
"I love you, Harry. So, so much, baby," Louis murmurs, bringing Harry into his arms again.   
Harry whines, wrapping his arms around Louis tighter. "I love you," he replies, his own tears making a salty mix with Louis'.   
"Come to bed with me," Louis orders gently.  
"I don't know," The hesitant look is back in Harry's eyes as he moves out of Louis' embrace.  
"Please?" Louis asks.  
"I don't know if that is such a good idea," Harry mutters, picking at his cuticles. The skin peels and blood bubbles to the surface, leaving a stinging throb pulsing through Harry's finger.  
"I need you with me," Louis says, looking straight into Harry's eyes. What he sees shocks him, as Harry's eyes are filled with pain and longing. He's positive they match his own.  
"And I need you to be there for me, so it looks like both of us aren't getting what we want," Harry spits out, malice dripping off his words. They cut through Louis' like a knife.  
Louis hunches his shoulders. "I know, and I'm sorry. I've said sorry a billion times."  
"I'm still upset," Harry informs him with a dark glare.  
"I know, babe, I know," Louis says. "But I miss you so much. Harry, you don't even know how much I want you next to me."  
Harry breathes in deeply through his nose. "You think I don't want that, too?"  
"I don't know," Louis shrugs. "You seem to want to get rid of me."  
Harry scowls again. "I never said that."  
Louis has a stupid grin on his face. "You did," he says. "But it's okay."  
"I didn't say that," Harry groans. "I said I don't want us to keep going on like this."  
"Same thing," Louis says, pursing his lips.  
"No, it's-" Harry stops mid-sentence so he can clear his head. "I didn't say that, Louis."  
"Alright," Louis gives in, letting his argument drop. "Come to bed with me. Please?"  
"I think I said no earlier," Harry lifts his eyebrows up, knitting the hair together.  
   
"Please?" Louis says again. "You don't understand, Harry. You're my world, and if I have to leave you, just give me this last night."  
Harry frowns. Louis isn't making any sense, but somehow, Harry still seems to understand.  
"Just for tonight," he sighs. There's a churning in the pit of his stomach that tells him to lay back down and shove Louis away, but he ignores it.    
He stands, slipping his long and slender fingers through Louis' small ones. They head into the bedroom, Louis pushing Harry down on the mattress.   
"Lou?" Harry squeaks.   
"Sh," Louis silences him. "Let me take care of you. Allow me to show you I care, please."  
"Okay," Harry complies, going pliant on the bed.   
Louis moves forward, stripping Harry of his jeans and tee. He slides sweatpants up Harry's legs, lifting up Harry's hips so he can situate the sweatpants on him. Louis runs his fingers through Harry's hair, stroking the tips of his fingers over Harry's cheek. Louis bends down, pressing his lips to Harry's for a few short, blissful seconds. He then crawls into bed beside Harry, sliding his hands under Harry's armpits so Louis can cradle him to his chest. Louis resumes the motion of carding his fingers through Harry's hair. Louis turns his head to the side, pressing his lips to Harry's temple.   
"I love you," he tells Harry.    
Harry hums, curling his arm around Louis' waist. He rubs his face against Louis' chest, pressing a kiss to the skin.   
"Love you, too," he says.   
Louis collects Harry's body tighter in his arms, his grip tight, yet gentle. Pressing kisses to Harry's hair and forehead, Louis falls asleep, his gorgeous boy wrapped up in his arms. He falls asleep with his thumb stroking the flesh behind Harry's earlobe, mumbling sweet-nothings into Harry's ear.   
"You're so pretty," Louis whispers. "My gorgreous boy."  
When morning comes, Harry is rolled to the other side of the bed. His back is facing Louis, soft snores coming from his lips. Louis grins lazily at him, reaching out to stroke a hand over the expanse of Harry's back. He shudders under Louis' touch, curling into himself. Louis scoots close, throwing a leg over Harry's hip and clasping his hands together as they make their way around Harry's middle. He draws lazy patterns on Harry's skin with his index finger, nuzzling into his neck.   
"Louis?" Harry stirs, trying to tilt his head back.   
"Right here, lovey. I'm right here, babe," Louis assures him, pressing his lips to Harry's collarbone.  
Harry scoots back. "Good. I thought you might have left me."  
"The only one who left is you," Louis chuckles. When Harry stiffens, Louis elaborates. "To the other side of the bed, I mean."  
"Oh," Harry mumbles. "Sorry."  
Louis tsks. "You don't need to say sorry. If anyone does, it's me."  
Harry wiggles out of Louis' embrace, sitting up against the headboard. "I said I forgive you, stop apologizing."   
Louis crawls up to the headboard, sitting next to Harry. He clasps the boy's hand in his own, their fingers interlocking.   
"I can't just stop apologizing," he says. "I love you to death, I feel so bad."  
"I'm not saying you shouldn't feel bad, but I'm saying I want you to stop telling me you're sorry," Harry commands, giving Louis' hand a squeeze. "We all make mistakes. I make many of them, so do you, but that's what couples do. I love you, and I know you love me. It's alright, Louis, we're fine."  
"You told me last night that we needed a change," Louis frowns. "That I needed a change. I doubt we're fine."  
"We're fine," Harry promises, giving Louis a kiss on his thin, pink lips.   
Louis shakes his head. "We can't just be fine. I physically hurt you. I'm so angry with myself."  
"Don't be," Harry slings his arms around Louis. "Yes, you need to get help for your alcohol addiction-" when Louis opens his mouth to speak, Harry shushes him and continues. "-because that's what it is. An addiction. But I know you can get through it. I'll be with you the whole time."  
"Okay," Louis obliges, falling forward into Harry's chest. As much as he likes to be the one holding Harry, there are times where Louis has the urge to be cradled. Harry understands, pulling Louis close to him.   
Harry has decided that he understands why Louis drinks now. It's a buzz, a buzz that takes him away from the mess that is their life. When all the stress piles up on him, Louis turns to alcohol to make it better. Even if he doesn't agree, Harry understands. He'll always understand, because this is Louis, the man he loves more than anything in his life.   
"I get it," he whispers to Louis.   
"What?" Louis asks.   
"I understand why you drink," Harry elaborates. "It takes the pain away."  
"Yeah," Louis nods. "It numbs it."  
"I wish I could be numb," Harry confesses.   
"I wish I could disappear," Louis confides.   
"I wouldn't like that," Harry says. "You keep me sane, Louis. I wouldn't want you to disappear."  
Louis smiles, tilting his head to press his lips to Harry's. "I really do love you," he says.   
"I love you, too," Harry replies.   
Everything may seem fine for today. However, Harry knows better, and Louis does, too. They know how big of a struggle this is going to be, for the battle can't be won until management disappears.


	2. The Second Shatter

Rehab was done very secretively. During a three month break, Harry and Louis set up a two month program with management's help. They decided long before Eleanor was brought into the picture that nothing could happen between them with out management knowing or having a say.  
When he gets home, the first thing Louis does is give Harry a hug and tell him how much he was missed. It's a little awkward at first and Harry's slightly tense, but then he melts into it and Louis digs his fingers into Harry's back.  
“It's good to see you,” Harry murmurs. He grinds his chin down into Louis' shoulder and sniffles. He's desperately trying to hold back tears and Louis doesn't like the way it sounds.  
Louis pulls back a small amount, just to look Harry in the eyes. He's shocked at how aged Harry seems to be, how big and dark the circles under his eyes are. Harry just looks so tired and worn out.  
Louis presses their nose together, curling his arms around Harry's neck. “You look great,” he says. Harry's not at his best, and it shows, but Louis still thinks he's one the most beautiful people he's seen in his life.  
“So do you,” Harry returns. “So much better than before. You look healthy now.”  
Harry stumbles over his words and Louis smiles. He's the only person in the world who understands Harry when he gets all flustered and when his words start to run together. He'll always know what Harry means.  
“Let's sit,” Louis suggests, pulling away and reaching for Harry's hand to drag him over to the couch.  
Harry follows obediently, sitting down a little way away from Louis until he caves and crawls into his lap. Louis stretches out across the couch and pulls Harry with him, tucking Harry's head into his neck and kissing his temple. He feels the pulsing warmth of Harry's skin against his lips and smiles, turning to press his nose against Harry's forehead. They're trying to get back into the swing of things and both of them know it.  
“Did anything interesting happen while I was away?” Louis asks. He chooses his words carefully, can't bring himself to say rehab. It doesn't feel right, like admitting he needed help is wrong. Harry definitely doesn't think he is, for he was the one who encouraged Louis to go.  
“No,” Harry shakes his head. “I stayed with my mum. I couldn't stay here alone, I was going crazy.”  
Louis traces his fingers along Harry's arm. “How was she?”  
“Understanding,” Harry replies. Both of them fall silent for a few moments. They know damn well what Harry is talking about. The tension is back. Louis shifts and squeezes Harry's shoulder.  
“It must have been nice of you to see her,” he says.  
Everything about this is stiff. Forced, even. It doesn't feel natural, it feels like they're tip toe-ing over each other in case they say something to set the other person off. This isn't them, this isn't what they do. Harry and Louis know each other better than any other person, this is not how they are supposed to act. Only to management is this acceptable.  
“Why are we doing this, Haz?” Louis snaps first. Harry is thankful he said something because he's too afraid to speak on his mind sometimes, which is stupid, because it's Louis. He has to remind himself too often that Louis loves him and what he has to say, that he's not trying to keep him quiet like management is.  
Harry hangs his head. “I don't know,” he mutters.  
Louis sighs and reaches for Harry's hands, stroking his knuckles. Harry looks up, his smile slightly insecure. Louis wants to kiss it off him, so he does. He cups Harry's cheek and brings him closer, kissing the corner of Harry's eye when he pulls away. Harry's cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink, his features soft. Louis strokes his fingers over Harry's face, starting at his forehead and making his way down to Harry's chin. He presses a kiss to Harry's nose to finish it off.  
Louis pulls them back down again, Harry's head resting on his chest this time and his fingers burying themselves in Harry's hair. Harry nuzzles against Louis like a kitten, nosing at his shirt and leaning his forehead in the dip of Louis' collarbone. Louis loves him all the time, but he really loves Harry like this.  
“Let's start over, okay?” Louis suggests. “It's just me and you, we don't have to pretend to be anyone different.”  
“Alright,” Harry agrees. “After I dropped you off, I came back here and packed a bag before going to my mum's. I called Gemma and we talked for a bit. She told me to pass on that she hopes you're doing well and that she wants you to call her so that she can talk to you. She wouldn't say why, though.”  
“Maybe it's just for a chat,” Louis shrugs. Then comes the dreaded question. “Did management call while I was in... rehab?”  
Hesitantly, Harry nods. “They said they'd give us an hour today before they'll call. It looks like they're scheduled to call any moment now.”  
Louis sighs and scrubs at his face, reaching for his phone. He knows what this is going to be about. He was away for two months, there is a month left of the break. He just knows the subject conversation is going to be about Eleanor.  
Harry seems to know it, too, for he falls quiet and snuggles into Louis like he always does when he's insecure and hiding.  
“Do you want me to leave the room while I'm on the phone?” Louis asks.  
Harry shakes his head. “No,” he says. He grips Louis' shirt in his fist. “If I'm going to have to lose you, I want to be close to you right now.”  
Louis means to say something reassuring, he really does, but his phone rings and management's ID is displayed, so he can't do anything about it. He pulls Harry closer as he accepts the call and brings his phone up to his ear.  
“Hello?” he greets, tone sarcastic, bored. Louis gave up trying to be sweet a long time ago. He's more snappy now. Harry's sugar-sweet personality makes up for what he lacks.  
“Hello, Louis,” says Natalie. Louis hates it when he has to deal with her. What he hates most is how she always starts off friendly when she knows she's going to crush both of their hearts by the end of the phone call.  
“Eleanor?” Louis doesn't have to say anymore to hear Natalie's sigh.  
“Tomorrow,” she says. Louis doesn't have the energy to protest anymore. He knows by now that he's not going to get anywhere, so he just listens to Natalie talk. “You're on break. You haven't seen her in a while. You miss her. The car will pick you up and take you two to dinner. You'll be home before nine thirty.”  
“Okay,” Louis voice is small, quiet. He's so over this, and he hopes Natalie understands that by the tone of his voice.  
“Alright,” she says, “just be ready. Goodnight.” She hangs up after that. Louis wishes she would be like Chris and at least tell him she was sorry. Natalie is one of the harshest people he's ever had to deal with.  
Louis sets his phone on the table with a clattering noise. The air around him and Harry is thick. They can't decide who should speak first. Louis' hands still from where they were carding through Harry's hair from when he was on the phone and Harry isn't rubbing his nose against Louis anymore while making small snuffling sounds.  
The noises he's making are small sniffles and Louis really can't take it anymore. He presses his palm against Harry's cheek and lifts his head up, stroking his thumb underneath Harry's eye to wipe his tears.  
“Shh,” he soothes. “Don't cry.”  
Harry presses his palms to his eyes, dashing his tears away. “Sorry,” he says.  
“You don't have to apologize,” Louis assures, pulling one of Harry's hands away from his face and threading their fingers together. He rests their hands against his cheek and kisses one of Harry's eyelids. “You're too beautiful for tears. Shh, baby, everything is going to be okay.”  
“I don't know why I'm crying,” Harry actually laughs, turning his cheek into Louis' palm. “I'm just tired and emotional, I'm fine.”  
Louis strokes his hair. “It's okay. I'm tired, too. How about we get some sleep?”  
“What about Gemma?” Harry asks. He yawns, then widens his eyes, as if acting like he isn't tired is a way to not feel it.  
“I'll call her in the morning,” Louis answers. “Get up so we can go to bed.”  
Harry giggles sleepily and climbs off Louis' lap, stretching his limbs as he waits for Louis to stand from the couch. Their hands are clasped together as they head to the bedroom, Harry stumbling around in his exhausted haze. Louis wraps his arm around is shoulders and steadies him, guiding him into the room and pushing him on his back when they reach the bed.  
“Love you,” Harry smiles up at Louis as he lays on the bed.  
“Hmm,” Louis hums, pulling off Harry's pants and then works at his own. “I love you, too.”  
He reaches for Harry's shirt next, tugging it off his chest and tracing his fingers over the outline of Harry's ribs.  
“I'm just going to go brush my teeth,” Louis declares. “Get comfy, I'll be right back.”  
Harry stretches out, spreading his legs and arms. “Hurry back, I'm getting cold.”  
Louis rolls his eyes, but his smile makes up for it. “Suck it up, drama queen.”  
Harry's loud laugh sticks in his brain as he stands by the sink and brushes his teeth. Louis really loves him. As the toothpaste foams, Louis thinks of what he would do without him, because he isn't complete oblivious. He knows something is wrong. He just doesn't know how to bring it up.  
When he gets back into his and Harry's bedroom, Louis is met with the sight of a sleeping Harry, curled up with his lips parted. A smile tugs at Louis'.  
He goes over to the bed, drawing back the blankets after he's taken his shirt off. He crawls in beside Harry, curling a curling a hand over his stomach and pressing their bodies together. Louis kisses him on the temple and noses into his hair, closing his eyes.  
“I love you,” Louis murmurs, tracing his finger along Harry's stomach in a circular motion until he falls asleep.  
-  
In the morning, Louis wakes up to the sound of his phone blaring out the Tower Bell ringtone he chose for Gemma specifically. Groaning, he sits up and reaches for his Android, sliding the green phone option across the screen and speaking a groggy “hello”.  
“Hey, Lou,” Gemma chirps. She's too cheery for nine in the morning. “Is Harry awake, too, or is it just you?”  
Louis looks over at Harry. His cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips are parted, and drool is collecting at the corner of his mouth. “He's sleeping,” Louis answers.  
“How was rehab?” Gemma asks next. Louis knew this was coming, but he wishes he doesn't have to talk about it. He doesn't even want to discuss his rehabillitation with Harry, the most understanding and perfect human being he's ever met. It's just hard to, simple as that.  
“Good,” Louis struggles to answer. “I have to say it was a real eye opener. I was in a therapy group with people who truly had addictions and got to see the side effects and what could have happened to me if I didn't take help when I did.”  
“I'm glad to hear that you're home,” Gemma tells him. “Harry was a mess. He came to stay with mum and I visited for a two weeks. You should have heard how he was talking, Lou. He sounded so lost without you.”  
Louis' heart squeezes in his chest. “It was hard for me, too. I was ready to quit, but I thought of Harry and how I was doing this for not only me but him, and that kept me going. He's the only one I want to live for and I don't care about how selfish that is.”  
“It is selfish, but I know Harry feels the same way,” Gemma says. “He loves the fans, the boys, my mum and I, but he'd give that up for you in a heartbeat.”  
“I know he would,” Louis agrees. “Am I supposed to feel afraid? Because I don't. All I'm afraid of is losing him and myself before all the shit management is putting us through blows over.”  
“Another date with Eleanor?” Gemma just knows, and Louis likes that about her. Almost as much as he hates it. Sometimes, he likes how he doesn't need to explain himself, but at the same time, she always sees right through him and it can become rather irritating.  
“Yup,” Louis answers. “Today, nine thirty. I'm not looking forward to it and neither is Harry.”  
“I'd imagine so,” Gemma says. “He just got you back and now he has to let you go again.”  
“Yeah,” Louis bites his lip and looks at Harry's sleeping figure. He looks so peaceful like this, but Louis knows his eyes will look just as tormented as they always do as soon as they open. If he's lucky, Louis will sometimes get the innocent Harry used to have during The X-Factor, the curious and open minded stare and the love tied up into it that Harry looked at Louis with. It's still there, but it's not the same. Not when they look so shattered and cold.  
“Lou...” Gemma's voice trails off and she sighs. “Lou, do you think something's wrong with Harry?”  
Some part of Louis feels relieved that he isn't the only one to see it. Gemma is usually very insightful and quite the observer. Louis trusts her opinion.  
“Yeah,” he responds.  
“He seems off,” Gemma continues. “It's kind of like not all of him was there. He's wearing more bracelets now... I'm worried, Louis. Mum is, too.”  
Louis' eyes squeeze shut. “I know. He looks so empty. He's so much more sensitive. I know he's always been that way, but it's worse now. After I got the call from management, he started to cry. We haven't cried over one of these dates since the first couple times they happened.”  
“Mum and I tried to talk to him, but he just shut down and wouldn't listen,” Gemma tells Louis.  
He sighs. “I'll give it a shot, okay? I'm going to give it about a week so we can fall back into routine together before I bring it up.”  
“Yeah,” Gemma mutters. “I should have probably asked about that. Is everything okay?”  
“Kind of,” Louis' laugh has no substance to it. “He's side stepping over me. It makes me feel out of place, but we'll resolve it. I know we will. It's us.”  
Gemma sounds happy when she speaks this time. “That's a good mindset to have.”  
Harry stirs from beside Louis, and Louis says to Gemma, “Harry's waking up, I should go. I'll call you if I get anything out of him.”  
“Sure,” Gemma agrees. “Tell him that I say hello and that I love him. Bye, Lou.”  
“Bye,” Louis hangs up, putting his phone down on the beside table just in time for Harry to blink his eyes open. “Morning,” Louis murmurs to him in a gentle tone, reaching out to sweep Harry's fringe out of his eyes. His smile is kind.  
“Morning,” Harry turns his cheek into Louis' palm and sighs. Louis notices the soft look in his eye and breathes out in relief. “Was that Gemma on the phone?”  
“Yeah. She says hello and that she loves you,” Louis tells him. He strokes a random pattern into Harry's cheek with his fingertip. “I love you, too, by the way.”  
Harry smiles. “I love you,” he says and turns his head to kiss the centre of Louis' palm.  
“Haz—” Louis starts but stops, smiling instead. “Never mind. Come downstairs and make breakfast with me.”  
“Hmm, okay,” Harry agrees.  
“I'm going to put on a shirt,” Louis declares and leans forward to plant a kiss on Harry's temple. “I'll see you in the kitchen. You better have the pancake mix out.”  
“Yeah, yeah,” Harry waves his hand, then makes himself go cross-eyed and sticks his tongue out. His giggle comes next, and he rolls out of bed, heading downstairs in just his boxers. He sways his hips a little extra for Louis. They're becoming normal again and it makes them both feel just a little bit more sane. 

When Louis joins Harry in the kitchen, the first thing he does is pull him in for a kiss and murmur, “Haven't got to do this yet.” It makes Harry smile so wide and Louis loves the sight, because it reminds him that Happy Harry isn't so far gone.  
“I got the batter out,” Harry says. Louis kisses him on the cheek and ruffles his hair. Sometimes, Harry gets really cute and Louis just can't deal with it without kissing him. So he does.  
Harry pats at Louis' shoulder blade with his index finger. “This is really nice, but I'm hungry, so we should make some breakfast.”  
Louis pinches Harry's cheek playfully and takes a bowl out of the cabinet while Harry gets a measuring cup out.  
“Strawberries?” Louis asks at the same time Harry does. It's scary how in sync they are.  
Louis likes how happy they are as they cook side by side. He knows it'll be ruined later when the car comes to pick him up, but at this very moment, all Louis can care about is making sure Harry stays smiling for as long as he can manage.  
As they eat, Louis thinks how this was supposed to get easier as it kept on happening. It sunk in a long time ago that management was going to keep this up for years, and they have, but they were supposed to get used to it. Neither Harry and Louis has.  
Harry explains it as contracted cheating. Louis hates how he can think like that, but he knows it's true. He's bound into a contract where he legally has to cheat on Harry or else they can be sent to jail. It still hurts, even two years later.  
“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks.  
Louis looks at him. “Oh. Uh, nothing.”  
“Bullshit,” Harry rolls his eyes.  
Louis smiles. “Are we ever going to get used to Eleanor?”  
Harry falters and looks to the table. “No,” he whispers, and then speaks louder. “Should we?”  
“I don't know,” Louis replies.  
They shouldn't have to live like this, but they aren't the only people in the picture. There's Niall, Liam, and Zayn to think about, who have to pick up the pieces more often than not when both Harry and Louis are suffering too much to help each other. As much as they want to be selfish and scream “fuck it all, I love you”, they can't to that. They can't put Niall, Liam, and Zayn's careers in jeopardy.  
Harry sighs and drops his fork to his plate, rubbing his temples with his fingers. Louis has blown all chance of happiness, but with bracelets lining Harry's wrist, he really couldn't care less.  
“Harry,” he begins. “Haz, we need to talk.”  
“Later,” Harry dismisses.  
“No, now,” Louis disagrees. “As much as I wish it could, this can't wait.”  
“Lou, I'm tired,” Harry says. “Can you please just understand that I don't want to talk right now?”  
“I wish I could,” Louis tells him. “Gemma and I talked about you when she called. Haz... are you depressed?”  
He really should have approached the subject more carefully, but there isn't any going back now. Not when Harry snaps his head up and looks at Louis with fury. He thrusts his covered arm under the table and glares.  
“What the hell?” Harry snaps. “The fuck? How could you ask me that? Louis.”  
He's crying now and Louis' almost there. This wasn't supposed to happen yet, and now Louis feels like the biggest idiot on the planet. He reaches for Harry's hand, grabbing at him in hopes of making things better, but Harry yanks his arm away and scowls.  
“Don't touch me,” he snaps.  
He pushes his chair back from the table and heads to the bedroom. They only have one in the flat, so Louis knows he'll be on the couch tonight if he and Harry don't make up by then. They probably won't. They usually don't when it's an Eleanor day.  
Louis' starting to lose all hope again.  
-  
When the honk sounds from outside, Louis really isn't ready. Not when Harry hasn't come out of their room since breakfast unless he had to use the washroom. He showered at one point, so Louis used that time to get dressed for the date.  
He knows that he'll be given five minutes before Eleanor comes knocking on the door to make sure he's ready to go. It's like a given amount of time, enough to say goodbye to Harry but not enough so that they get all clingy and put up a fight.  
It's just that Louis doesn't have his boy to cling to for a couple seconds before he has to leave. He fixes his jeans and then heads out the door, using his key to lock the flat up on his way to the car. He tries to ignore the stinging in his eyes and the pain in his chest as he climbs in beside Eleanor and buckles up.  
“Hey,” she greets him, voice a small murmur.  
“Hi,” Louis says back. He tries to remember that none of this is Eleanor's fault, that she's just a girl who got caught up in the wrong thing. He has to remind himself that she's bound to him by contract and that she hates this as much as him and Harry do.  
“It's only a few hours,” Eleanor tries to soothe.  
“Yeah,” Louis presses his lips together and looks at the window.  
They don't like to talk, Louis and Eleanor. They sit away from each other in the car and stay silent, choosing to save the conversation for when they have to get out of the car. They can only carry on a conversation for so long, and Louis knows Eleanor is probably getting sick of hearing about Harry, but he's the only good thing in Louis' life most of the time.  
When Eleanor tries to talk this time, he's taken aback, but he finds himself listening to her instead of shutting her down. Louis has a love-hate relationship with Eleanor Calder.  
“I can tell that you had a bad day today,” she says. Louis wants to protest, but he finds himself unable to. “All I ask is for you to try and look just a little happy to be with me. I've had quite the shit week and I don't need to bed yelled at, and neither do you.”  
“I'm fine,” he snaps.  
“You're not,” Eleanor disagrees. “Lou, you're tired. You fought with him, didn't you?”  
Louis looks down at his lap. “Yeah.”  
“I bet that won't matter when you get home,” she says. “I bet he'll be happy to see you.”  
“Yeah,” Louis repeats. He's not good at this. “No offense, El, but I don't want to talk anymore.”  
“Of course,” she reaches out to touch his arm, but he pulls away. Her smile is sympathetic.  
Pull yourself together, Louis thinks to himself. Because he knows it's crazy to think he can pull both him and Harry together.  
-  
When Louis gets home, it's a little past ten, and all he can think about is how Natalie lied to him. She said nine thirty. He hates her that much more.  
Harry's already gone to bed, so Louis kicks off his shoes and drops his jacket, making his way to the bedroom. He checks to see if Harry's asleep, but he knows he's not. It's been almost three years. Louis knows what Harry looks and sounds like when he's sleeping, and this is not it.  
Still, he strips down to his boxers and tugs on a pair of plaid pants, crawling in next to Harry. He knows he's taking a risk, but he really doesn't care at this point.  
When he has his arms and legs wrapped around Harry, spooning him, Harry squeaks out, “Lou?”  
Louis shushes him and kisses him behind his ear. “Shh. I'm here.”  
Harry shudders and knots their fingers together. “Lou,” he repeats. He sounds like he's crying.  
“What's wrong?” Louis asks, because he'd be blind not to see it.  
Harry trembles and rolls out of his arms to turn the lamp on. He thrusts his wrist out at Louis and shows him the gash, which looks so deliberate that Louis has to look away for a second.  
“I'm sorry,” Harry chokes out. He looks so defeated and Louis just wants to protect him from everything, but he'd be stupid to think he could actually do that.  
“Why don't we—Why don't we get you cleaned up?” Louis suggests. When Harry nods, Louis takes his hand and guides him into the bathroom, sitting him down on the toilet lid.  
“I'm sorry,” Harry says again.  
Louis hushes him sadly and kisses him on the forehead, lips lingering. He uses his thumbs to wipe Harry's tears away, then goes to the sink to wash his hands and get a cloth out. He rubs away the dried blood on Harry's wrist and then gets the bacterial spray, pointing it at the cut and spraying. Harry whimpers and tries to jerk away from the sting, but Louis holds him in place as he tapes a band aid over it.  
“There you go,” he says, pulling Harry up to catch him in a hug. “You're all better now.”  
Harry's not, but he chooses to cry into Louis' neck and pretend he is. Louis is good at that, too. He strokes Harry's hair and back and thinks about how Eleanor was right. They might not be okay, but they almost are at the same time.


	3. The Third Shatter

Louis is the only one to know about Harry's struggles. Harry made him promise, then begged when Louis said that they should tell someone, anyone. So, against his better judgement, it's just Louis, even though he promised Gemma he'd call. It's been two weeks. He hasn't called. 

Tour rehearsals start today, which means filming for This Is Us might be happening as well. And, as excited Louis is to be able to give this to the fans, he doesn't want it to be today. Because the morning has already started off shitty and Harry is in a grumpy mood, which means Louis is, too. 

“Try to look like you're happy, okay?” Louis suggests to Harry as they climb out of the car and head into the venue for Thursday's show. 

Harry turns his sour expression into a forced smile indignantly. “There, are you happy?” he asks, scowl returning to his face. 

Louis sighs and reaches for his hand out of instinct, but then he drops it. There could be fans around. His own scowl fights its way onto his face and he walks a few steps ahead of Harry to erase any possible damage. He tries to soothe himself with thoughts that this is protecting them in a deranged way. 

Once they're inside and the doors have shut, Louis reaches for Harry's hand again, smiling slightly, but Harry tilts his eyebrow up and walks away. Louis faces falls and his footsteps falter. This isn't the first time it has happened, but he feels more crushed than ever. Liam pats his shoulder, but Louis shakes his head and goes up onto the stage. 

The boys from Five Seconds Of Summer are here. This will probably be one of the few times they will rehearse together. It's nice to have them around, even if it's only to figure out times and practice a few times. They'll probably hang out after. Harry will probably be sociable. Louis will not. 

“How about we do a run through of Kiss You while the lads practice on the stage?” someone on their team says. Louis' too tired to put names to faces right now. He feels awful about it. 

The five of them nod, spreading out a bit from each other as Zayn starts to sing. It's always awkward at first, but they fall into a rhythm after a while that's hard to get out of. 

“And let me kiss you.”

Louis likes it when Harry sings that line. His voice sounds so lovely there. It does all the time, but there are solos he sings that have Louis melting more than others. Not that he doesn't melt at them all. 

“I love you,” Louis mouths to Harry. It's like a promise, because they're both feeling like shit right now, and reassurance is nice. Being able to say it out loud is nice, too, but they aren't allowed. The world just isn't ready. Louis wants to scream “bullshit” every time. 

Harry smiles a bit at it, and it makes Louis feel like he's done well. He revels in it until camera crews show up right about the time they're to start praticing dance moves that are immature and not what any member of their crew wants them to do. His smile drops then. 

Halfway through The Bird dance they like to do, Harry takes his shirt of and starts swinging it around. Louis likes how he's acting silly, even though he knows it's a little forced. 

Harry kneels on the ground and sticks his arms above his head. As they all jump over him, Louis tries to ignore how Harry's ribs are sticking out and put on a smile and laugh and joke, because they are being filmed. This footage probably will make it into This Is Us, and they can't exactly redo it if someone looks off. So, Louis plasters on a smile and jumps over Harry again. 

When they're allowed an hour break, Louis takes a long drink from a bottle of water and leans against one of the boxes their band's equipment is in. If the cameras weren't around, he'd be allowed to be doing something lovey with Harry, like holding his hand or maybe even kissing him, but they'd both have their heads chopped off if anything like that ever got into the footage. He loves this opportunity, but he's even more resticted than ever. Sometimes, he feels like has no freedom at all. 

“I'm going to run to the toilet,” Louis announces. 

As he's walking out, he gives Harry the look, the one that they've specialized for times they need a moment or two alone, and heads to the main part of the arena to find a bathroom. Once he's in the tiled room, he knows he has at least five minutes before Harry will be coming in. 

As soon as he's through the door, Louis reaches for him and hugs him, burying his face in Harry's neck. Harry does the same and clings onto him. Louis thinks he hears him sniffling. He doesn't address it. 

“Is everything okay?” Harry asks, voice quiet and small. 

“No,” Louis replies. “I can barely even look at you without being reminded that there are cameras here and that most of the stuff they get will be in a film.”

“When you put it like that, it's almost like you're regretting the whole thing,” Harry says. He pulls back, crossing his arms over his chest out of habit when he gets confused or angry. Right now, he looks an equal amount of both. 

Louis sighs. “I'm not. I just wish we could get a moment alone without being followed by cameras. I miss being able to touch you when we have breaks.”

Harry softens. “Lou...”

“Don't give me that,” Louis shakes his head. “I don't want your sympathy.”

“What do you want me to do, then?” Harry asks, frowning. 

“I don't know,” Louis answers. “Is there really anything to do? We're under contract. We can't break it.”

“I wish we could sometimes,” Harry whispers. Louis can't pretend he doesn't hear it. 

“That would mean no more One Direction,” he says slowly. 

“I know,” Harry looks into his eyes coldy. Shivers run down Louis' spine. 

“Don't be selfish,” he scolds. “This band is the best thing that's ever happened to us and you know it. I want to be with you publically, too, but we can't. And it hurts me, too, but we need to be stronger than this, Harry. The both of us, together.”

Harry's lips and chin quivers. “I'm falling apart, Louis. I don't want to do this anymore.”

“Come here,” Louis holds his arms open for him. Harry comes to him and fits his head into Louis' neck. Louis rubs at his back. “Just a little bit longer. You need to hold on for just a little bit longer. I want to give up, too, but we can't. We have so much going for us. It'd be a shame to just give it all up. There's five of us. Remember that, okay? When I want to give up, I remember that it's not just us who's affected by this, it's the boys as well. You need to hang on, Harry.”

“I want to give up,” Harry mumbles. He sounds like he's crying. 

“So do I, but we can't,” Louis says. “I love you, okay? You know that I love you, and I know that you love me. We can get through this together. I promise, baby.” 

Harry sucks in a big breath. “We should get back,” he says. He doesn't let go of Louis. 

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. 

He reluctantly steps back from Harry, but he takes his hand and squeezes his palm. He doesn't let go until they have to. When Zayn sees them, he just knows. His eyes get sad. 

-

Harry really wants to go home. He likes hanging out with the boys, because all nine of them have become such great friends in such a short amount of time of knowing Michael, Luke, Ashton, and Calum. So, Harry puts on a smile and leans into Michael and gets Niall to take a picture. 

After a while, it becomes easy to laugh and smile. However, there's still this missing piece of him that wants Louis pressed up against him. And even though it's just them with crew members buzzing in and out, it's so much easier to just stay separated in case someone takes a dumb picture that would get them murdered if it wound up online. It hurts, but both of them know it's for the best.

“Want to head out?” Louis mouths to him. 

“Five more minutes,” Harry mouths back. 

They haven't been together as a big group in a while, with Harry and Louis removing themselves from most situations and staying together at home when every they can. Harry would feel guilty if he left now. 

Calum makes a weird noise and Luke jumps from one couch to the other. Niall tackles them both to the ground and Harry finds himself laughing more than he has in a long time. It feels good. He needs this, a fun time with his friends and his boyfriend whom he has to pretend is a friend. That part stings, but the rest is good. Okay, even. They're entirely different things, okay and good. One is a lie, one is the truth. It's not hard to figure out which one is which, all you have to do is look into his eyes when he says each one. 

Harry stands iup on the sofa and shouts, “Make room!” He turns and falls across Zayn and Ashton's laps, accidentally kicking Louis' in the ribs as his legs sprawl out. Louis rubs his side and oofs, and Harry can just tell that he's in a bad mood now. He clamps his mouth shut to silence his loud screams and laughs and sits up. The moment of fun is gone, and now he just feels tired.

“I think Harry and I are going to head out,” Louis declares. 

Both of them don't know when it got to the point where the other could make decisions for each other, but it's not like they consider it a bad thing unless it goes to far. It's neutral at the moment. 

The other boys look up at them, expressions filled with confusion, but it's Zayn who seems to really get it. He squeezes Louis' shoulder and widens his eyes in concern. Louis looks away as soon as he sees it, not wanting care from anyone other than Harry. He's in a mood right now, a god-awful bad mood and he just wants to go home and sleep. 

“Okay,” Liam finally says. “Have a good night, then. We'll see you tomorrow. Remember that we have an interview.”

Any gratitude Louis felt toward Liam is gone, dissipating out of his body and being replaced with anger at the thought of an interview. It's not like it's Liam's fault, he doesn't make the schedule, but it's like his already shitty mood multiplied with the new knowledge. He fixes Liam a glare, grits his teeth, promises to be there, takes Harry's hand, and leaves. 

Once they're in the car and buckled, Harry places a hand on Louis' lower back and rubs a few small circles. Louis huffs, crossing his arms and trying not to give in, but when Harry kisses his cheek, he can't help but lean into his shoulder and sigh. 

“It won't be so bad,” Harry murmurs, bringing his arm up to curl it around Louis' shoulder. 

He shrugs. “I guess so.”

Harry leans their foreheads together, comforting. Louis closes his eyes and lets himself be held, becoming vulnerable for the only person allowed to see him this way: Harry. It's almost frightening, how much he puts into Harry, how much of himself he gives away. The trust that they have for one another... Things will never stop being hard.

 

When they get into their flat, Harry goes into the washroom and Louis stands awkwardly by the door. He fiddles with his fingers until he hears water running and clues in. 

“Harry?” Louis calls, standing outside the bathroom with his hand on the door. “Harry, are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Harry snaps, but Louis hears how his voice wavers. He jiggles the knob before opening the unlocked door. 

Harry watches the door with clouded eyes, fogged over by his tears and exhaustion. He pulls his knees to his chest and hides his face as Louis comes into the room, turning off the tap and sitting in front of him. He takes Harry's hands and pulls them away from his face, looking at him sadly. 

“What's wrong?” Louis asks. 

“Everything,” Harry replies. When Louis sighs, he says, “It's going to be another one of those interviews, isn't it? The ones where we get asked the same old questions and then I get about who the latest girl I'm going to sleep with and drop after is. I don't want to hear you go on and on about Eleanor and tell everyone we aren't together.”

“Harry,” Louis bites his lip as he searches for the right words. He ends up failing. “It hurts me too, you know.”

Harry blinks hard. “I don't want to think about the bad stuff anymore.”

“Do you want to go watch something on the telly?” Louis pulls him to his feet and raises a brow in question. 

Harry nods and lets himself be led into the living room, going pliant in Louis' arms. He feels so needy, filled with the urge to cling onto someone he loves and soak up as much attention as he can. Louis leans back against the arm rest and Harry rests against his chest from his spot in between his legs, back to chest, holding Louis' hand in a death grip. 

“Is this show okay?” Harry nods at Louis' inquiry, too tired to speak and not caring about what's on. 

Louis slides his hands up under Harry's shirt and rests his palms against Harry's stomach, rubbing circles underneath his belly button with his thumbs, softly kissing over the veins on his neck. Harry shudders and puts all his weight on Louis, leaning back on his chest fully. 

Louis doesn't watch the program. Instead, he rubs Harry's stomach, alternating between sweeping his palms over his skin and stroking with his fingertips and thumbs. Harry goes boneless on his lap and closes his eyes, giving himself over to the soothing pleasure. He lets out a small moan and crosses his ankles with one of Louis'. 

After a long pause of silence—one that is welcomed—Louis asks, “Do want me to order some pizza?”

Harry shrugs. “Sure. Cheese is good for me.”

“That's it?” Louis clarifes. 

“That's it,” Harry confirms. 

“Okay,” Louis agrees hesitantly. 

He scoots out from underneath Harry, throwing a blanket over top of him and kissing him on the mouth before heading to the kitchen to grab his phone. He leans against the counter and places the order—just a large cheese because he can't be bothered to think of something else he wants—and asks for delivery because it's late and he doesn't feel like driving out just to get it. Not when that involves being spotted and having Twitter blow up, and then having to pose with fans and pretend to be happier than he really is. 

When the doorbell rings half and hour later, Louis gets it so Harry doesnt' have to move, which Louis knows he's so much more grateful for than he's really letting on. He should really call Gemma. 

The box is opened and put on the coffee table, and Louis has to close his eyes for a moment and remember that this is the same coffee table he slapped Harry a metre from when he was drunk. Eventually, Harry sighs and reaches for a slice, looking even more tired and worn out than he ever has before. This is a really bad day. 

“Do you want to talk?” Louis asks him. 

Harry shakes his head. “Not right now. I want to eat first.”

Louis nods in understanding, even though he's unhappy with what Harry said. He lifts an arm over Harry's shoulder and he cuddles in willingly, letting the exhaustion of the day win. Louis has himself propped up with Harry under his arm, tucked under his arm as they eat in total silence apart from the TV. 

“Okay, this show is seriously stupid,” Louis scoffs, trying to lighten the mood. 

Harry cracks a small smile. “Agreed.”

A tiny grin plays at Louis' lips and he presses a small kiss to Harry's temple, brushing a hand up and down his side. 

“Can you pass me a slice, please?” he asks Harry. The arm that's curled underneath his head doesn't quite reach that far. 

“Sure,” Harry replies. 

Louis accepts it with a gentle, close mouthed smile, taking a bite from the tip. Harry drops his unwanted crust onto the empty lid, folding his limbs together and curling up. 

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “Is that all you're going to have.”

“Yeah. I'm not very hungry,” Harry says. “I'm really cold. Will you scratch my back?”

Louis looks at him for a moment before the throws his half-eaten slice of pizza in the box. He kisses the back of Harry's head and rolls him over, making him straddle his thighs and look at him as he switches the telly off. 

“Actually, Harry, we need to talk,” he says. 

“Later,” Harry waves it off. 

Louis shakes his head. “No, Harry. Now. This is important.”

“Okay?” Harry's eyebrows knit together and he looks nervous, expecting the worst of what Louis has to say. He shifts, hips grinding down, suddenly feeling the need to be closer, closer, closer, but he stills, knowing he shouldn't start something he can't finish. 

Louis brushes his fingertips across Harry's forehead, kissing his cheek and putting off asking the question waiting to roll off his tongue. When he manages to spit it out, it's soft, timid, but Harry still hears. 

“I think therapy sounds like a good idea,” he agrees.


	4. The Fourth Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the next part is going to be the last one xx.

Management doesn't like the idea of Harry having a therapist. They say it isn't good for their imagine to have a “member in the band that's broken”, that it will “shed light in places that should be kept private”. 

Anger coarses through Louis as soon as the words are out of Natalie's mouth. He pushes his chair back, the metal scraping against the tiles of the floor. His chest is heaving and he feels like he's going to explode as he stomps out into the hall. 

He slides down a wall and draws his knees to his chest, pressing his face into them and trying to even his breathes. He isn't crying. Honestly. From inside the meeting room, he hears Harry apologize and excuse himself, and then there's a body curling around Louis in a matter of seconds. That's when the tears start. 

“God, I hate them,” he spits, balling his fists in Harry's shirt as he tries to centre himself. 

Harry rubs his back. “They're just doing their job, Lou. Can you blame them?”

“Yes,” Louis answers, more condecending than he planned. Harry recoils, and Louis can't stop himself from blabbering an apology. 

“They're trying to protect our images,” Harry attempts weakly. 

Louis looks bewildered when they lock eyes. “They're brainwashing you!” he accuses. “Harry, do you not know what they've done to us? I know they've done a lot for us, but you're worth so much more than all of that to me.”

“Louis,” Harry's lips part. “You can't—Don't say you'd give it all up for me. I'm not anywhere near the feeling of all of this fame.”

“That's where you're wrong,” Louis gives him a smile and strokes his thumb with his own. “We're going to fight for your right to this, the both of us. I know the boys will, too. They have our backs.”

“I know,” Harry's expression is fond. “I love you.”

Louis kisses him, slow and tender, before replying. “I love you, too.”

They sit there, pressed together and propped against the wall, for a long while until Liam pokes his head through the door and they remember they just walked out of an important meeting. Wordlessly, they stand, hands interlocked as they head back into the room. 

Right away, Natalie sighs, opening her mouth to speak, but Harry cuts her off. “With all due respect, I'm over eighteen,” he says. “And even if I wasn't, it would be my mum's choice. You can't deny me medical care.” She goes to protest, Harry is sure of it, so he makes sure he adds, “It's my choice, and I'm going through with it. I want to be happy and healthy, not miserable and feeling like I want to kill myself every second of the day.”

The boys look at him in shock. All except for Louis, who suddenly feels horrible for keeping such a secret quiet for so long. He bites his lip and reaches for Harry's hand, curlings his fingers around his wrist and stroking Harry's thumb with his. Natalie gives him a pointed look, but Louis doesn't care. He needs to feel Harry's touch right now, needs to show him that he's there. 

When Niall butts in, Louis finds himself happy for his lack of filter. It gives management the push Harry needs. 

“If Louis got to go to rehab, something much easier to find out about, why can't Harry have a therapist?” he asks, one eyebrow raised, challenging her. 

She opens her mouth, but Chris puts a hand on her arm. “Okay,” he agrees, “but we won't be paying for it since you brought it up. I can get you a few numbers—” 

“No, that's fine, I can do it on my own. Thank you, though,” Harry declines, respectfully like always, and twists his wrist to slide his fingers in between Louis'. 

“Alright, then,” Natalie's tone is snappy and she places a hand on her forehead. “If that's everything, you can go. Just call us when you have a therapist and give us all of the information so we can schedule your appointments.”

“Right,” Louis answers for him, tugging on his arm and leading him out of the room, muttering under his breath. 

Harry makes circles on Louis' palm with his thumb, trying to soothe him before he blows up at the first innocent person that comes by. Louis' trembling, still muttering, so Harry wraps an arm around his shoulders and digs his fingers into his left side, rubbing. 

He presses his lips to Louis' ear. “Calm down, okay?” he whispers. “Everything is going to be alright.”

“No, it's not!” Louis shoves Harry's hands away and whirls to face him, chest heaving and tears in his eyes. “I'm so sick of them! I'm tired of this, Harry. They control everything. You can't even want medical help without them putting fame above everything else.” Harry reaches for him, but Louis turns away and snaps, “Don't touch me. I need space.”

He turns and walks down the hall, stomping his feet and dashing tears away. Harry watches him go, looking like a kicked puppy, tears starting to well up in his eyes. He jumps when a hand touches his shoulder and turns to see Liam, looking concerned. 

“We're all stressed,” he offers. “He just needs a break, I'm sure he'll be okay.”

Harry shakes his head. “It's more than that. Something's wrong.”

“Do you want me to go talk to him?” Liam asks, squeezing Harry's shoulder when a tear trickles down his cheek. 

It's then that realizes just how much of a rock Liam is. Without him, they would be falling apart. Without any of them they'd fall apart. He needs them, is the thing. Without Niall's hugs, Zayn's silent comfort, Liam's advice, and Louis' love, he'd be nothing. 

Eventually, Harry nods, wiping his eyes and forcing himself to smile. Liam pats him on the arm and heads off in the direction Louis left in. He stands silently until he breaks and turns to Niall, wrapping himself around him in a hug that isn't nearly as comforting as the feel of Louis' arms around him. 

“It'll be alright, mate,” Niall squeezes him tight. 

Liam finds Louis in an empty hallway, pinching himself in the arm and trying not to cry. He's sitting on the floor, head tilted back and leaning agaisnt the wall, and Liam feels sympathy for him. He goes and sits across from him, pulling Louis' hand away so he can't hurt himself anymore. There are bright red nail marks in his arm. 

“What do you want?” Louis demands, tone defensive, like he's ready to pick a fight. 

“To talk to you,” Liam replies. 

“Did Harry put you up to this?” Louis sounds so childish, young, and it takes Liam a moment to remember that he's isn't as strong as he likes people to believe he is. Louis breaks, too. 

“No,” Liam shakes his head. “I offered and Harry said yes. So start talking.”

“I don't want to talk,” Louis disagrees. 

“Tough crap, we're going to talk anyway,” Liam says. 

Louis scowls. “Let me rephrase that. I don't want to talk to you. I want Harry.”

“Well, his feelings are hurt. He doesn't want to talk to you right now,” Liam responds. “You'll have to deal with me.”

“Fine,” Louis huffs. “I'm just tired and stressed. I'm sick of them controlling everything I do. I know it's not just me, that it's you and Zayn and Harry and Niall, but I'm done with it. I've seen how miserable Harry's been for two weeks now and all he wanted was someone to help him get better, but Natalie always gets in the way. I hate her, Liam.”

“I know,” Liam pauses, thinking over his words before he says them. “I get it, you know. You feel trapped, like you can't do anything, and it hurts to see someone you love suffer like Harry is. I understand how frustrating it was to listen to Natalie spout nonsense about Harry and him getting a therapist. It will make him better. I've seen therapy help people before. He's going to be helped, okay? You're not going to lose him.”

Louis cracks a small smile. “Thanks, Liam.”

“Anytime,” Liam smiles back and scoots forward with his arms outsretched, hugging Louis around his torso. “Maybe you should see him now,” he suggests when they pull apart. 

Louis nods, not saying anything as he stands up. He sees Harry in the hall with Niall and Zayn's arms around his shoulders. Liam pushes him forward with a hand on his upper back, causing him to stumble a few steps. 

Harry looks up when he hears him. Their eyes lock and Liam and Zayn back away. Niall gives his shoulders a shove and follows the two of them to the hallway around the corner to give them some space. 

“Harry,” Louis croaks, swallowing the lump in his throat and closing the distance between them by cupping his face. “I'm sorry for freaking out like that.” 

Harry sighs and bends down to kiss him, sliding his hands down Louis' ribs to settle them on his hips. Louis moans, desperately curling his arms around Harry's neck and clenching his fists in the back of his shirt collar. 

When he pulls back, Harry rubs his cheek against Louis', nuzzling it down his neck and to his chest. Louis laugh is breathy, and he pulls Harry's head up by his hair gently to nudge their noses together, smiling at him. 

“I love you,” he offers, moving his head and kissing his nose before fitting his head in the crook of Harry's neck. He likes being small sometimes, likes feeling wrapped up in Harry instead of always striving to be the bigger person. He needs it, the feeling of giving Harry the power to make him feel like no other. 

Harry noses at his temple, kissing his hairline. “I love you, too.”

Harry holds him, occasionally pressing kisses to his head and rubs his back. He understands, cuddling him in and lets him be small, knowing Louis needs this more than anything right now and wants to give him the world. 

“It's okay, by the way. I forgive you,” Harry adds, sliding a hand up under Louis' shirt and pressing his thumb into one of the indents at the bottom of his spine. 

“I want to go home,” Louis says and kisses the vein on his neck. 

“We can't, we have rehearsals,” Harry replies, sounding just as miserable. “But we'll go home after that if we're allowed, I promise.”

“Okay,” Louis squeezes his middle tightly before stepping back. 

He fiddles with his fingers, looking insecure. Harry kisses him again and tucks Louis into him, leading him around the corner to the rest of their band. 

“Everything okay?” Liam asks. 

Harry nods in response for both of them, turning his face into Louis' hair and breathing him in. Zayn eyes them and Harry nods again, confirming Zayn's silent inquiries. 

“So, rehearsals?” Niall speaks, breaking the silence. He's almost perfect at draining the tension from the air. The rest of them nod and follow their body guards down the hall. 

-

Louis pushes Harry down on their bed later that night, straddling him as he licks into his mouth. Harry gasps and digs his nails into Louis shoulder, bare from him not wearing a shirt, similar to Harry's situation of just being in boxers. 

“Wait,” Louis manages to get out, pulling back, his chest heaving. 

Harry sits up, leaning against his elbows. “What is it?”

“Not like this,” Louis says. “We're raw and hurt, it shouldn't be like this.”

He rolls off of Harry, laying on his back as he tries to get his breathing back to normal. Harry sighs and curls into his side, leaning his cheek against Louis' shoulder and slides a leg in between Louis'. Louis lifts his right arm and curls it around Harry's shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing the top of his head. 

He gently thumbs the scratch on Harry's bicep from where he fell in rehearsal. He yelled at Niall for tripping him, even though it was an accident, and then he and Harry got into another argument that they made up from in the car. 

“You're right,” Harry mumbles. “I know that you're right, but I want to feel close to you. Please, Louis.”

“I'm not in the mood anymore,” Louis says, letting him down gently. He kisses his hair to soften the blow. “Another night, okay? I love you.”

Harry squeezes his hip. “I know. I understand. And I love you, too.”

“When should we start looking into therapy?” Louis changes the subject, trying to spare the awkward. He doesn't want to see Harry's flushed cheeks and hear him stammer over words as he attempts to cut through the tension that was starting to build. 

“Soon,” Harry responds. “We can start looking tomorrow morning. Or I can. I don't know how much of this you want to be a part of.”

“All of it,” Louis answers immediately. “I want to help you as much as I can, and that includes being there for you.”

Harry glances up at him. “You're a good boyfriend, you know.”

“Thanks,” Louis smiles before kissing him, soft lips pressed against his. “So are you. The best.”

“Sure,” Harry kisses his shoulder before rolling out of his grasp to turn the lamp off. “Are you going to cuddle me?” he asks, turning his head around, back still facing him. 

Louis grins, but Harry can't make anything out in the dark. He just knows. Louis spoons him, holding him by the waist and kissing behind his earlobe again. Louis tells him he loves him again, just because he does, and Harry says it back, falling asleep a few moments later from the soothing, skin-on-skin contact he has—Louis' fingers are rubbing circles on his stomach. Louis listens to him breathe for a while before he falls asleep himself. 

-

In the morning, Harry sits in the living room with a mug full of tea, Louis' on the coffee table, and a phone book in his lap. Louis has his feet curled up beside him on the couch and he's leaning with his nose pressed into Harry's shoulder, smelling fabric and everything he's ever loved. Harry flicks through a few pages, lips pursed as he scans through the numbers of a few therapy places. 

“I want a woman,” he concludes, turning his head to look at Louis, who nods curtly. 

“Okay,” he says, pulling the phone book off his lap and onto his own. He scans a few names. “We don't want marriage and family”—he flips a page—“or child crisis therapists. Ah, here's something. Allison Fisk and David Arnold, two regular counselors. I can call them for you and book an appointment with Allison.”

Harry shakes his head. “Management is doing that, remember?”

Louis sighs. “They can't do that, Harry. We'll keep them informed, yeah? Now hand me my phone.”

Though he still thinks it's a bad idea to go against management's wishes, Harry hands Louis his cell and bites his lip as he dials the number in the phonebook. He sits quietly as Louis books him an appointment for the following Saturday, when they have their first day off of rehearsals. 

“Great. Thank you. Yep, we'll call if we need to cancel. Okay, bye.”

Louis hangs up and puts his phone beside his cup of tea. He presses his left palm against Harry's right cheek, thumbing at his bottom lip.

“All taken care of,” he says. 

“Yeah,” Harry hums in response. “We should call management now.”

Louis grows somber again. “I know,” he replies. “It's just—Give me an hour, then I'll call. I want to spend some time with you before they take you away as punishment.”

Tears gather in Harry's eyes and he pushes his hair back from his face, only to have it flop back in his eyes. He hasn't styled it yet today. He doesn't feel like doing it at all. 

“They're not—” Harry stops, because he doesn't really know. They can be pretty cruel sometimes, always trying to “teach them a lesson”. It's stupid. 

Louis strokes his cheek, starting at his temples and drifting down and back up. Harry finally lets his tears fall, them sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto his chest. Louis studies his face sadly, not knowing what to do anymore but let him cry. Both of them are sensitive lately, never knowing what to do with each other but offer as much support as they can. 

“It's going to get better eventually,” Louis promises him. 

“I hope so,” Harry comments. Louis reaches forward to take his hand and squeeze it.


	5. The Fifth Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and shitty, my specialty. Thank you for reading this fic xx

Allison Fisk brings Harry a booklet with information and asks him to fill out before his first therapy appointment. Louis runs his fingers up and down his arm, comforting him as he begins by printing his name and age. He's not supposed to be here, but he managed to sneak past a few rules and make it into the building. He'll just have to face the consequences later if management get word of it.

Harry gets to this small box, one that asks him what his goals are by the end of therapy. He turns his head and looks at Louis, eyes pleading, and Louis leans over to kiss him on the cheek. 

“This is all you,” he whispers to encourage him. 

Harry sighs and curses under his breath. He presses the tip of his pen to the paper, pausing a moment to think before he starts to write. I want to be happier and learn to appreciate the things I have. Louis looks down at his sheet and then to his face. Harry looks like he's going to cry. 

“Baby—” Louis goes to say something, but then he stops because Allison Fisk comes out of her room and asks him if he's ready. Louis shakes his head and presses his palm to Harry's back for a breif moment. “Be open minded, okay?”

“I will,” Harry says. 

“I love you,” Louis tells him, kissing his lips quickly. “I'll be right here waiting for you in an hour.”

Harry smiles as he gets up. “Love you, too.”

“Take a seat on the right chair, there,” she instructs him as she takes the pink booklet from his hand. 

“Okay,” Harry nods, fiddling with his fingers as he sits down. He crosses his right leg over his left thigh and tries to hide behind his hair. He wants to let it out of his headband and let it flop in front of his eyes so Allison Fisk can't see him. 

She sits down in the chair across from him and clicks open a pen, pressing the tip to the paper on her clipbboard.

“I'm just going to ask you a few questions, okay? I want to get to know you as well as I can so I know exactly how to help you,” she says warmly, staring at Harry's face with a soft smile on her lips.

“Okay,” he repeats. 

“Alright,” she cracks a knuckle. “Call me Allison, okay?” 

Harry nods, playing with the hem of his jumper. 

Allison taps her pen again. “Have you ever self-harmed before?”

He swallows hard. “Yes.”

“Where?” she questions. “And with what?”

“Um. Wrists, thighs, stomach, hips,” he lists. “And, uh, with razor blades, scissors, the blade from pencil sharpeners. Anything sharp.”

“Ever thought of suicide?” she continues. 

“Yes,” Harry tells her. 

“Have you ever attempted suicide?” she inquires.

He shakes his head. “No, never. I'm scared to die.”

“How long have you been feeling this way for?” Allison asks. 

He snorts. “It's complicated.”

“Why don't you explain it to me? From the very beginning of when you started feeling sad,” she suggests. 

“Okay,” he stammers a second. “The X-Factor was really good. I was happy during it and stuff. My bandmember, Louis, we started dating while on the show and it was really great. I was happy until after the show because then we got signed and our management didn't like our relationship. They, um. They hired a girl to be Louis' public girlfriend in two-thousand eleven. Uh, Eleanor Calder. I guess that's when I started to feel bad. I started cutting late that year. Louis went out and got drunk all the time at the beginning of this year. Things started getting really tough, you know? He coped by going out to the bar and it was hard for me to not have him around. That's when it got really bad, I guess. Early this year.”

Allison nods, her clipboard resting on her lap. “I see,” she says. “Did your boyfriend get help for this drinking problem?”

“Yeah,” Harry tells her. “And now it's my turn. Or so he says.”

“Do you want to get better?” Allison asks, eyes studying his. 

Harry nods. “I want to feel happier. I want to be better.”

“That's the first step in the right direction,” she says. “I'm here to support you as much as I can and help you understand why you're hurting yourself and feeling the way you do.”

“I understand,” Harry murmurs to himself. 

“How does seeing Louis with Eleanor make you feel?” she goes on. 

Harry's laugh is empty. “Horrible. I've been watching him touch someone else the way he touches me for the past two years. It makes me so mad and I just. I just...”

“You hurt yourself because it's your pain is the only thing you feel in control of. You can't be with Louis in public but this girl can, and you can't do anything about it, so you self-harm because that's something you can control,” she says. “Am I correct.”

“I, uh,” he splutters for a moment. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“What do you like to do for fun?” Allison asks. He stares at her, in disbelief that she's changing the subject now, when she was just getting somewhere. 

“I like to sing. Singing is fun,” he replies. 

“Besides singing,” she clarifies. 

“Oh,” Harry's cheeks are burning. “I listen to music, I watch TV, I cook and clean around our flat because it distracts me, or I spend time with Louis if I'm allowed. We were just on a three month holiday and it was hard because he was at rehab and I never got to see him. I didn't tell him, but it got really, really bad, so I went to stay with my mum as some sort of distraction for myself. I told him I was just lonely.”

Allison sighs. “What I'm getting at is that you're scared of being alone. Is this correct?”

“Somewhat,” Harry answers. “When I'm by myself, it's just me and my thoughts, and those scare me sometimes. It's like this voice in my head telling me to hurt myself because it's my fault Louis has to parade around with Eleanor, even though I know I'm not responsible for what management decided.”

“You're right, it's not your fault,” she agrees. “Who you love and who loves you is not your fault, okay? It's completely normal, and you shouldn't feel bad about yourself or put blame on yourself just because you're dating Louis.”

“I know,” Harry mutters. 

“Now, I think we need to find new coping mechanisms for you,” Allison concludes. “Things for you to do instead of hurting yourself when you become angry or scared. Listen to music, cook, clean, spend time with Louis. Anything to take your mind off of the urge to self-harm.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “I'll give it a try.”

“Okay,” she smiles and passes him the clipboard and pen. “I'm going to go fill this out while I make your next appointment.”

“Uh, you may have to run it through my management,” he warns. 

“I can't do that,” Allison tells him. “You're over eighteen, so you're the only one who can book your appointments. I can fax them the date of your next appointment, but I can't have them schedule it. Sorry.”

“No, that's okay,” he assures her. 

Question one: what are your goals after today's therapy session? 

“To use different methods to cope with my feelings other than cutting myself.”

Queston two: were you satisfied with today's therapy session?

“Yes.”

Harry hands Allison the clipboard on his way out and smiles, accepting the business card with the date of his next session on it. When out in the waiting room, Louis stands up and takes his hand, kissing his cheek. 

“I've got to go out first,” he says. “Management kind of called.”

“Yeah, alright,” Harry mutters, dropping his hand and stepping back. “I'll see you in the car, then.”

Louis stares at him for a moment before shaking his head and leaving, the door swinging shut behind him. Harry stands there, his arms folded over his chest as he tries to keep his tears in. He's hurt. So incredibly hurt, and his wrists are tingling with the need to make the pain physical, but he doesn't want to blow it already. He knows he'll be okay when he's home with Louis' arms around him. 

When he gets into the car, Harry presses his face against the window and slides his fingers in between Louis' when they brush against his hand and wrist. He goes into the bathroom when they're in their flat and splashes cold water on his face, staring at his relflection in the mirror before he goes to find Louis in the kitchen. 

He stands from his seat and stretches out his arms. Harry walks into them and tucks his face into Louis' neck, needing to feel safe and conforted. Louis nuzzles their cheeks together and sweeps his hand down Harry's back. 

“How was therapy?” he asks. 

“It was good,” Harry responds. “Allison is really helpful. We talked about you and management and Eleanor. She said that they can't make my appointments but she can keep them informed for me.”

“That's good,” Louis replies. “I'm not going to pressure you to tell me, but I think it's important for us to communicate, especially when it comes to things that I can do to help you or make it easier on you. I want to be there for you.”

“I know,” Harry says. “Allison gave me advice on how to cope with things besides cutting myself.”

Louis tightens is grip on him, holding him closer. “What did she say?”

“To listen to music or clean the flat or spend time with you,” Harry answers. “It's helping right now, having you hug me.”

“What's wrong?” Louis inquires, turning his head to place kisses along Harry's hairline. 

Harry shakes his head, burrowing closer. “Nothing. Management just makes me so angry sometimes.”

“What can I do?” Louis asks. 

“Just keep holding me,” Harry answers. 

Louis turns his face into Harry's hair and strokes circles with his palm into his back and shoulders. Harry sighs and tightens his grip around Louis' waist, feeling the ache in his chest disappear with every passing second. He knows that eventually they're going to be okay. Maybe not now, but someday, and they've got their love to prove it.


End file.
